


The Nightly News

by rudolphsb9



Series: Not That Far Apart After All [10]
Category: Hitman: Agent 47 (2015)
Genre: Gen, Siblings, number siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 08:39:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8095408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudolphsb9/pseuds/rudolphsb9





	

Fandom: Hitman: Agent 47  
Rating: PG  
Characters: Agent 47; Katia Van Dees  
Relationship: Number Siblings  
Summary: The news is hardly ever accurate or useful these days.

~~~

“Breaking news as the name of one of the victims of a fiery explosion in Singapore last week has been released by the police,” said a female anchor on an American news station. Katia and 47 looked up at the screen, as the woman continued, flashing a picture on the screen of Antoine LeClerq, talking about his career and so forth and how he was a great loss and so on and so forth. Katia went over to the television and turned it off, and 47 looked at her. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“I don’t want to hear about LeClerq,” Katia said, turning and walking toward the bathroom without looking at him. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, sliding into a seated position and sighing heavily. This was not how it was supposed to go, she remarked to herself. This wasn’t at all how it was supposed to go. Nobody gave a fuck about that recluse LeClerq.

She sighed heavily, letting her head hit the door and hating herself for feeling the way she was. She heard 47 walk over to her, padding across the carpet in the calculated way she was now sure was his habit of walking. He knocked on the door, and she turned a little. “Y-yeah?” she asked.

“You can’t hide from me.”

She leaned back against the door. “You’ve got that backwards,” she remarked plainly, unable to muster any sort of emotion to go with it. He didn’t move, and she took a deep breath, hauled herself to her feet, and opened the door. “I’m sorry,” she said to him.

47 shook his head. “Don’t apologize for that.”

She paused and looked at him, confused and uncertain, and then simply cleared her throat and nodded. “It’s still weird,” she admitted, not quite looking at him. “It still feels…”

“Painful?”

She looked him in the eye, finding a strange light behind what looked like an icy exterior. He knew. She nodded slightly and stepped away. He watched her curiously but didn’t move toward or away from her. She started to relax a little, straightening out of the habitual hunch she only then realized she had settled into. “I want people to know who he was,” she said. “I feel like they should.”

“Then perhaps you should know him first,” he simply said. He started walking back to the sofa. “Your father was a complex man. To him the genome was a work of art, something to be appreciated.” He sat back down and went back to cleaning his guns as he spoke. “But he was also a product of the Cold War. The world waited for the end, and people were unsure when the war would turn hot and they would die. Your father was a defector from the Soviet Union, and the government quietly allowed the ICA to bankroll the program, believing it would give them an edge.” He looked up at her. “He did his best. He wanted to serve his new country, but something about you or the boys got to him. I believe he couldn’t do it anymore, and panicked.”

“And ran,” she finished. 47 simply nodded and polished the slide on one of his Silverballers.


End file.
